Bones Nine
by Dr. SecretAgentMan
Summary: Lance Sweets has always been a lone wolf, but when a client offers him a proposition he can't deny, he's going to have to find a team crazy enough to follow his lead and target the biggest and most protected museum this side of the country: The Jeffersonian. Rated T forcussing but there's really nothing else. Team!fic Crime AU


**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bones or the characters associated with it.

**Warning**: Daisy in a towel... It just mentions it. I don't do smut so don't even ask. It's pretty much just spy/crime stuff cuz I'm kind of obsessed with the new Q at the moment. Ben Worshaw is amazing! (really hope I spelled that right….)

I got this idea while marathoning Leverage, James Bond, and Oceans 11 in the same week. Total AU with everyone being criminal masterminds cuz I'm just into that type of thing.

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The intruder wasn't new, and certainly not unexpected. A wreath of almost impossibly red curls lay about her shoulders, which were bare besides the cherry locks. In fact, almost everything about her was bare as she stalked though the door in nothing more than a towel, a graceful but unimpressive huff in the bustle that was Apartment 23.

Now in this room sat a man, curled upon a sleek leather couch, a white laptop centered in his lap. A look of amusement settled about his face, but he did little more than raise an eyebrow to the woman, and he certainly did not raise his eyes from the screen. His otherwise occupied slim fingers and mind remained fixed on the keyboard, clicking out a symphonious beat that filled the otherwise silent room. _Click, clack, click, clack, _hummed the computer as it measured out the obscurities portrayed on its flashing screen. Numbers, maps, equations; modules curved around the Spreadsheet in a seemingly random manner, yet to the two in the room, it was so much more than that.

In fact, it was so important that the two stayed silent, watching, waiting, until the man slid the laptop closed, urging his face into an easy grin.

"Daisy." He inclined, words soft and silky and smooth as they darted around paneled mahogany and expensive silk. Mouth quirked, he did nothing to address her obvious lack of clothing, and did little to acknowledge it either, his eyes never straying below the subtle jut of her collarbone. She was lying in front of him now, the typing the distraction she needed to stray to the table in front of him, lounging across the sleek finishing.

Her body was full of soft, appealing, edges as she shifted, seeking comfort, and, in a way which no one could say as subtle, curved about the glassware settled around the table. Beside her sat a glass of Shirley Temple, spiked of course, from which she plucked a cherry that she did little more than raise to her lips and suck.

"Lance." Daisy cooed, her hand cradling her head as the other pulled documents seemingly from mid-air. She gestured at Lance, who at this point was looking mildly more interested, eyes straying away from her and to the pile of papers clenched in her fingers. "Hacker has a job for you."

"A job." Lance echoed, as he slid closer to the red-head, moving deftly to catch the papers folded in her palm. Their fingers intertwined playfully, but both could tell the ruse. There was nothing between them, not anymore; her reoccurrence in Lance's life only a tactic for Hacker to use and impose upon, like the lingering remains of a scar upon skin. A scar that still burned upon contact, a fact that he was reminded of every time he did business with Hacker.

The moment was gone quickly, as he tugged the papers closer to him, partly to gain access to the material, partly to escape the searching of the stunning woman in from of him. There was a slight resistance, but the documents were quickly handed over with surprising ease as Daisy seemed to reconsider herself, and if Lance didn't know her so well, he would have said there was almost a self-conscious look about her. Years said better though, and the tactic was simple enough to avoid, as work took precedence for both of them, a factor that had contributed to their parting long ago.

The papers Daisy had so willingly volunteered to give him were easy enough to read, even more so for a genius of his caliber, but there was something wrong with this picture. Hacker knew him, knew his work, knew his schemes, knew what _bloody_ coffee he preferred on Tuesdays; there was no way he could set him up with this. This wasn't work, and this sure as hell wasn't a job. The tech, the lasers, the floorplan; it was, but it couldn't be. Hacker would never have set him up with….

"The Jeffersonian. Hacker wants me to crack the _fucking_ Jeffersonian. What kind of an idiot does he think I am?" He raised his hands in protest. "No one in their right mind would break into the Jeffersonian. It's a suicide mission with at most a couple mil, an antique vase, and-"

"Caroline Julian's collection."

Lance blinked in surprise at the sudden outburst.

"_The_ Caroline Julian?" He asked because suddenly, this made a whole hell lot more sense. "The Caroline Julian that screwed Hacker, screwed us, and then walked out unharmed with two billion dollars in untraceable small bills and an all-expenses paid flight to the Bahamas? The Caroline Julian that Hacker would pay anything to get revenge on."

Daisy only nodded with that smirking face of hers and patted his hand tenderly, as if he were a child learning to walk and she the encouraging mother. With a gentle grip, she pulled herself close and brushed her lips up against his ear, her voice bouncing about his brain.

"He would pay _anything_."

Then she slowly slunk back and gathered herself to leave. Her dyed locks swooped about her shoulders as she tossed them, assaulting Lance's nose with an onslaught of perfume. Expensive heels clicked about the floor, as she raised a hand in farewell.

"You'll take the job." She laughed knowingly, just inches away from his door. Her brows were raised as if it were a question, but nothing from Daisy was ever that. It was a statement, a pure and simple statement, and Lance found he was resigning himself to the implications.

"I'd need a team." He mumbled, as if that would somehow end this entire thing.

Daisy sneered.

"Good luck." Lance heard her say as her form disappeared from view. "You'll need it to find people who will work with you."

And Lance was stuck alone with only a laptop and time, a date stamped to the top of a precariously stacked pile of papers. He rubbed his fingers against the bridge of his nose before sighing softly and retrieving his phone.

It was going to be a long day.

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I know it's been a while, but I've been really busy so I hope you all can put up with me. I've been trying; I swear…. But enough with that, I hope you enjoyed!

As always please R&amp;R and PM me with any questions!

Thank you for reading my cupcakes! :D


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